CourtShip
by Esme Incognito
Summary: In cleaning out a house, sorting through a lifetime of memories and possessions, she happens upon the journals, his and her stories of how it all began: a 50th anniversary, a graduation trip, a cruise that set them on a new course. AH 20-something Bella & Edward. A little angst, but mostly fluffy, romantic fun.
1. Chapter 1

**CourtShip**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 5/25/14**

* * *

**A/N**

Welcome to CourtShip, my second full-length story. If you're coming from The Fantasy Basket, thank you for taking a second ride through my version of the Twilight world. If you found this another way, I'm so glad you found this story! Please leave a note to let me know where you heard about it.

I may not be able to post chapters regularly for awhile. I have this story about half written, but that doesn't mean the first half! I've got the main Bella &amp; Edward story (their journals) 80% written and just the very beginnings of the sub plot that will be woven in between—the girl who's reading the journals. I'll try to hurry! Knowing that you're all eagerly awaiting more will help motivate me.

I hope this short first chapter will give you a taste of what's to come and you'll be on alert when I make enough progress to post more.

I'd love to hear your first impression of CourtShip. Please post comments, suggestions, thoughts…

Thanks for reading. Please Enjoy!

Jen

PS: This is straight from me to you—no beta or pre-readers—so all errors are mine.

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Story Summary

In cleaning out a house, sorting through a lifetime of memories and possessions, she happens upon the journals, his and her stories of how it all began: a 50th anniversary, a graduation trip, a cruise that set them on a new course. AH 20-something Bella &amp; Edward. A little angst, but mostly fluffy, romantic fun.

~ ~ \-0-0-0-/ ~ ~

**CHAPTER 1**

It had been a long day already, and it was only lunchtime. After four hours, eleven boxes, and three paper cuts I was only halfway through the bookshelves, removing the tomes from their neat, organized homes on the shelves and sorting them to their fates—keep, toss, sell, not sure…

I'd been instructed to leaf through each book, warned that their owner was apt to absentmindedly leave treasures among the pages. I found mostly unremarkable things: bookmarks, paperclips, advertising post cards and scraps of whatever lay nearby to mark the place she'd left off. But every so often, I came across something interesting. I found a twenty dollar bill and a couple of singles, several half-done to do lists in her loopy, messy cursive, theater tickets, an unused airline voucher for a free flight that expired twelve years ago—_bet she missed that_—and several photographs.

But the biggest treasure by far was in the notes. It was obvious which books were her favorites, for she'd signed and dated the inside cover upon each perusal. And the margins were filled with comments. Handwritten thoughts and memories triggered by the words she'd read. Those books were the hardest to sort.

How could I sell or give away something so personal, share these glimpses into her mind, her feelings, her soul with nameless readers at the library? With people haggling the price of this priceless piece of her down from 50 cents to a quarter? They didn't know her and would probably be annoyed by her musings in the margins. I wanted to get to know her better, to wrap my arms around her books and her words and never let them go. Never let _her_ go.

Sell.

Sell.

Sell.

Every so often, I'd find a volume she'd bequeathed to someone, scrawling a name and a personal note on the front page. Those were the easiest to part with, knowing they were going to a good home, that the recipients would appreciate her dedications. There were even a few she'd left to me. "Marie, I was a quiet girl like you. This book opened my eyes to a lot of new things in college. I hope it helps you someday, too."

Keep. Definitely keep.

I moved on to the bookshelf in the corner and my task became exponentially harder. A whole shelf of leather bound journals, identical but for the dates printed on the spines in the neat block printing that must have been his were the first to strike me. I'd thought notes in the margins were personal, but journals? _Heaven help me_. The rest of that bookshelf—floor to ceiling—was filled with photo albums, scrapbooks, yearbooks, children's art portfolios… memories in every size and shape.

I sat back on my heels, looking around me for help that I knew was not forthcoming, and wondered what to do with them. I wasn't qualified for this. Why couldn't I have been assigned to, say, the dining room? Or the garage?

I puffed out my cheeks and blew out a long breath, deciding that it was time to take a break and go eat lunch, when something on the shelf caught my eye. Instead of being neatly lined up with its brothers, one of the leather bound journals was out of place on a shelf with the photo albums. Upon closer inspection, I found that it was tied together with a large square scrapbook, giftwrap style—a wide blue ribbon holding the mismatched volumes together, criss-cross— tied in a neat bow right in the center. I took them down and loosened the bond, noting the gold-printed words inked on the journal's black cover with neat precision:

_Journal_

_Nanny &amp; Pops' 50__th__ Anniversary Cruise_

_July 2014_

My eyes widened at the date as I set the book aside and turned to it's partner. _That's an old one_.

The scrapbook must have been from the same cruise, it's cover adorned with a graphic of a large, white ship sailing toward the horizon, embossed with her name across the bow—the _Eclipse_.

I opened the cover and flipped through the large, plastic-encased pages, noticing that someone had unscrewed the posts that bound the book together and interspersed several smaller pages among the large scrapbook-sized ones. The smaller plastic sheaths contained lined pages torn from a spiral notebook. They were filled with the sloppy cursive I'd been reading all day—the writing of someone whose thoughts moved faster than her fingers could record them.

I read…

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

Her Scrapbook

**Day 1: All Aboard!**

I am so excited! Our graduation trip is finally here. Well, I've got another year of school, technically, thanks to my double major, but Jessica and Angela both graduated and I finished my fourth year, so…whatever!...we're here on the ship, en route to Mexico. Actually, I think we're already far enough south to be alongside Mexico, but we're in international waters so it doesn't count.

This is going to be so much better than our spring break trip to Ensenada last year! The fact that none of us could go somewhere together this past April for our very last spring break prompted this trip. Angela had to go home for her twin brothers' 18th birthday party and Jessica's internship wouldn't give her spring break off. (Especially since she didn't request the time off—she just assumed it would be a work holiday! Welcome to the real world, right?) I spent a super fun-filled week in the library, researching and outlining a couple of term papers. Yeah, that was _great_!

When my friends found out how I'd spent spring break, they insisted that we plan a graduation trip together—one last hurrah—and so, here we are aboard the Eclipse.

We met up in Long Beach yesterday and had fun catching up on what we've all been doing since school got out last month. Jessica was so cute. She got matching Cal t-shirts for us that say "Cruising 2014." We weren't the only ones with t-shirts. There was a group—it must have been a family reunion or something because there were at least 20 of them ranging in age from a baby to an elderly lady with one of those scooter things. Anyway, they all had matching blue shirts that said "50 Years - Cullen Crazy Cruisers."

While we waited in a horrendously long line to check in, Jessica was chattering on and on about what a jerk her boss was because he made her work late on Friday to finish some big project before she left on vacation. I kind of zoned out, which made me worry that my besties and I may already be drifting apart, only a few weeks after graduation. I really hope that my extra year of school doesn't cause me to lose touch with my friends whose lives are moving on.

As we made our way around and around the long queue, I was startled by a shriek that came from a girl in that group with the t-shirts. She's a tiny little thing, probably around thirteen, who had cut her t-shirt into this fancy, one-shouldered, fringed thing. She was really excited to see some new guy who joined their group, bouncing around and hugging him. I chuckled when he put his hands on her shoulders, kissed her forehead, and kind of nudged her away. Obviously, she caught a little too much of the Cullen Cruise Craziness, even for her own family member!

We moved forward in line and I got to talking with Angela about the Teach All America assignment she just got. I'm kind of worried about her. She's going to a sketchy area that has a really high crime rate to teach underprivileged kids for a year. She's very committed to doing it, though. She's always been such a kind and generous soul.

When we wound around to the outside edge of the queue again, I could see that the new t-shirt guy, who looked like he's around our age (and did I mention, really, really cute?) had been passed along through his whole big group, receiving hugs from every one of them. He was making faces at a tiny little boy in his arms and was talking animatedly with an older lady.

I watched them wistfully, wondering what it would be like to have a big, loving family like theirs. Three people. That's what I've got. I know my dad loves me, but he shows it in ways like painting my room or putting the snow chains on my truck when the weather's bad. My mom and Phil are great, but I hardly ever see them. So, I was watching this big, beautiful, demonstrative family, trying to make observations for future stories I may write.

Jessica noticed me staring and, crude as usual, broke me from my reverie by asking if I'd honed in on a "target" for this trip already. I told her that I was just wondering what it would be like to have a big family like that.

Jess, being Jess, gave a typically crass retort, saying that if I wanted a big family, I'd have to find somebody to make babies with first. She laughed at her own joke. I didn't. Oh my god, I can't believe her! Even with all these people surrounding us, she kept going on and on about it, her voice escalating.

At one point she yelled out, all excited, that her top priority for this cruise was to "find me a man." This old guy with a big beer gut, who was in line with his buddies, called out "I volunteer, baby!" and he totally checked me out. _Ugh_!

I could feel my face heat up as Angela put her arm around me and gave me a little half-hug. Then she basically told Jessica to shut the hell up. I love that Jessica helps pull me out of my shell, but sometimes, she just doesn't know when to stop.

We got to the ship, unpacked, and ate lunch at a fantastic buffet. Then we had to go through this ridiculous safety drill. Everyone on the ship had to go to a designated place down by the lifeboats and basically wait around in a huge crowd for everyone else to show up in the right place so they could demonstrate how to put on a life preserver.

We were all stuck there, three rows deep, and this lady who was already drunk (we'd only been on the boat for 2 hours!) was being obnoxious. "WTF is a muster station?" she shouted. "If the ship is sinking, I'm jumping in the first lifeboat I see. Why the hell would I go look for my muster station?" _Nice_!

Jessica was laughing at her. Angela was paying close attention to all the signs and the map of the ship.

Afterwards, as we waited for the clog of people to work their way through the narrow doorways and stairways and elevators, I watched people, observing how they act and what they say. Sometimes I make up stories in my head about random people that I notice.

The high point of the drill was that I saw that Cullen guy again. He's pretty tall, so I could see his head above the crowd. Gosh, he's cute. And in the natural light, I could see the unique color of his hair. It looks dark brown indoors, but outside I could see that it's actually kind of auburn-reddish with some lighter, almost golden, highlights. I know it's not right to call a boy pretty, but that's the best word to describe this guy's hair. I wish I had hair like that instead of boring brown.

Gotta go. We're headed to our sit-down dinner and then checking out the night life on the ship. It should be fun! (I just hope that Jessica doesn't spend the whole night trying to hook me up with random guys!)

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

A portrait of three girls about my age—the kind of picture that entertainment venues force you to pose for and then try to sell you for outrageous prices—adorned the facing page, the date: July 8, 2014.

Could that be her in the middle? Wow!

And that cute guy in the Cullen Crazies t-shirt must have been… Before they met… Oh my god. If the larger book was her journal and scrapbook, then the other one must be…

I grabbed for the black leather bound book and eagerly flipped open the front cover, turning past the cover page until I found the first entry.

Yes, it was… I read, anxious to read his side of the story.

"Ready for some lunch?" My partner in crime looked exhausted and glum. She was definitely in need of a break, a change of scenery. The journal would have to wait.

* * *

**A/N**

Who do you suppose our book-sorting, journal-reading protagonist is? And who could the cute guy on the cruise be? Hmmm…

Please review!


	2. Chapter 2-Terminal

**CourtShip**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 8/2/14**

Story Summary

In cleaning out a house, sorting through a lifetime of memories and possessions, she happens upon the journals, his and her stories of how it all began: a 50th anniversary, a graduation trip, a cruise that set them on a new course. AH 20-something Bella &amp; Edward. A little angst, but mostly fluffy, romantic fun.

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

**CHAPTER 2**

"…Yeah, Marie and I are just getting back to the house now." I pulled my car into the driveway as Mom argued into the phone. "We'll do as much as we can, but it's a big job."

"No, we're definitely not going to be able to finish today. Are you sure you can't come over after work?" She rolled her eyes and scowled at his response. "What's so important that you can't come and help? Why is this all falling upon… Oh. Ok."

I glanced over as her tone changed from irritation to resignation. "Is there any paperwork you need from their files here?"

We made our way to the front door and she chattered on, discussing details and decisions and other arrangements for the business at hand as I worked my way through each key on the ring. After three failed attempts, Mom reached out her free hand to take the keys from me, pinching the one that would grant us access between her thumb and finger, impatiently handing it back with the losers dangling, jangling.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, it struck me again, just as it had when we'd arrived that morning: Emptiness… It was the same house—yes—with the same furniture, the same decorations which I normally found to be comforting, homey; the same family photos adorning the walls; everything was the same.

But it wasn't. Nothing here would ever be the same. The day was bright, but there was no light, no life.

I turned to hang my coat in the closet near the front door, and my eyes were pulled immediately to the floor inside, looking for the bin. It wasn't there anymore, of course. It hadn't been for years. The large, lidded plastic bin had been moved to the shelf up above, still full of toys and books, but now out of the way until the next time a child came to visit when she would ask him sweetly to lift it down, thanking him with a kiss and a wink.

I'd delighted in playing with the things in the bin hundreds of times. It was an icon, etched in my childhood memory.

And that was my trigger. With that memory it hit me: the permanence, the loss. The toy bin wouldn't be there ever again. I'd never see children of my own digging to the bottom, seeking out a missing puzzle piece or the little plastic fireman who never could seem to stay in his place behind the wheel of the ladder truck.

Unless I decided to keep a few of those childhood toys, or anything in this house, to stash them away in my closet or under my bed, they'd be lost to me forever, preserved only in my memories. The fireman would swim among the debris at the bottom of another child's toybox, a child who had no knowledge of me or of the children a generation ahead of me who had all been careful not to lose him, to set him in his driver's seat before pushing the firetruck down the long hallway in this house, its bell clanging with each revolution of the wheels. Would the fireman stay with his truck? Or would he be separated, torn forever from his trusty "Ladder #57?"

Tears that had been prickling at my nose all day now spilled down my cheeks. With a gasp I reached a hand toward the door frame, needing something, anything to help keep me on my feet.

Mom quickly ended her phone call and wrapped me in her arms, holding me, rocking me, patting me on the back like the baby I'd once been to her until my sobs subsided.

And I understood. I got it. I knew then what had hit her.

When we'd arrived earlier that morning, entering through that same front door, we had smelled something sour, spoiled and followed our noses to the kitchen.

One moment, one glimpse toward the breakfast table was all it had taken for Mom to break down. Sobs wracked her body, wails like I'd never heard before passed her lips. I stood in shock, frozen momentarily at the sight before us until the sound of her collapsing to her knees next to me demanded my attention.

I helped her to the couch in the family room, grabbing a box of Kleenex along the way, and consoled her as best I could.

"Thank you, honey," she'd said when she was composed enough to speak. "I just need a few minutes." I nodded and gave her a kiss on the forehead, mothering her for a change, and left her to her thoughts and memories. Her grief.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself against the smell and the sight I knew would assault me just past the kitchen doorway. I braved into the room, eyes averted from the table, and quickly filled the kettle, setting it to warm on the stove next to an eggy frying pan before gathering the trash can from under the sink, along with a pair of rubber gloves I found there.

Steeling myself, I turned toward the breakfast table and slowly raised my eyes to it.

With a hitch in my breath, I quickly approached the tableau, anxious to remove all traces of it. Her breakfast of 9 days ago stood untouched, pristine as a still life but for the greying of the scrambled eggs. I quickly emptied the plate's contents into the trash can, depositing it and the full cup of ice cold coffee into the sink.

I then turned to the chaos that was his place: meal half eaten, coffee sloshed across the table, marring the cheerful embroidered tablecloth with an aggressive brown stain, chair pulled out haphazardly at an angle from which no one could eat, fork fully laden with egg on the floor, its once sunny soft yolk now a mess of congealed gunk.

Especially disturbing were the pill bottles she must have rushed across the room to retrieve in a desperate attempt to revive him from his sudden collapse. Aspirin tablets and some kind of smaller pills from an amber colored prescription bottle were scattered everywhere, spilled in her haste to open the darn childproof lids and get them to his mouth. If only they'd worked…

I shuddered, blinked back a new round of tears, and cleared away the evidence of his last moments before taking my mother some tea.

…

Tears dried; toy bins and dirty dishes shuttered from our sight, Mom and I returned to the stations we'd abandoned that morning and continued with our work. I transferred all of the scrapbooks and photo albums and journals to the "keep" pile—all but the pair of cruise journals, which I promised myself another peek into upon the sorting of one more bookshelf, the completion of one more goal. I needed something to lift my spirits on this grey day, after all the sadness and despair of the past week and a half.

The first entry in his journal brought a much-needed smile to my face:

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

**His Journal**

**Cullen Family Reunion 2014 – Celebrating Nanny &amp; Pops' 50****th**** Wedding Anniversary **

**Aboard the Twilight Eclipse**

**July 8, 2014 - Tuesday**

I'm certainly glad I made it on time! I almost missed the cruise.

I was supposed to arrive yesterday with everyone else, but Dr. Snow, the advisor for my internship, called and asked if I could come in to observe a procedure. It's pretty rare, and he said it would probably be years before I had another chance to see this particular surgery live—if EVER as a student.

I called Carlisle and he agreed that it was a really good opportunity. There was an early flight out of SFO that was supposed to get me to Long Beach in plenty of time. Right. How an hour-long flight turned into four is beyond my comprehension. It's not like they have bad weather in California in July.

If I had missed the ship and missed Nanny &amp; Pops' 50th anniversary, I would have been pissed. Thank god, I made it—barely.

The whole family—all 20 of them—were waiting for me in the cruise ship terminal, letting everyone else go ahead of them in line. They've got kids to manage and Great Grandma Didi is still recuperating from her broken hip, yet they were all waiting for my sorry ass. That made me feel like shit.

I finally arrived and Alice screamed across the terminal and ran toward me as quickly as her ridiculous shoes would allow, so excited that I was finally there. She practically knocked me over. I love my baby sister to death, but sometimes she needs to turn it down a notch. I lifted her up and gave her a great big hug, because it really was great to see her.

I feel bad for not going home this summer, but the chance to work with Dr. Snow before I start med school in the fall was too good to pass up. I set Alice down and she kept hugging me and bouncing around until I kinda pushed her away and told her to save it for later. All those people waiting for me, remember?

I wanted to go say hello to Nanny and Pops first, but Mom had to grab me and give me a big hug and a kiss. Then Carlisle gave me a hug. And that pretty much started the whole family—all 20 of them—passing me along: hugs, kisses, greetings from every auntie, every uncle, every cousin. It was great to see everyone, but jeez!

My favorite greeting was from Jasper, who laid his slobbery little mouth on my cheek. God, he's great. I hadn't seen him since Christmas and that's like, half of his lifetime ago. So, my man Jazz and I worked the rest of the line together. He gives awesome high fives.

I ended up talking to Great Grandma Didi as our group finally moved into line. She was joking about how she'd wanted to bring her physical therapist, who's like, my age and apparently "quite a looker," along on the cruise when some girl a couple of rows over in the line shouts out that her friend is in dire need of a man and her goal in life is to find her one. I guess Alice isn't the only one with volume control issues.

Said friend had her face buried in her hands and was trying to hide behind her long brown hair, so I couldn't see her, but Pops and Didi started in on me, urging me to go meet her since I apparently won't have much time once school starts. WTF? It's bad enough that Mom plays matchmaker every time I'm home. And now the grandparents are trying to hook me up, too?

I saw the brown-haired girl later, during the emergency drill. She's… gorgeous—big, brown eyes; fair skin; wavy hair; and she looked at people like she was studying them, trying to figure out what made them tick. Hmm. I wonder what she'd think of me and all these crazy Cullens?

She and her two friends were wearing shirts from Cal, so I wonder if she's from the Bay Area? That would be nice! Yeah—getting a little ahead of myself, there. Anyway, Pops may be on to something about this girl. She's really pretty…

She must have felt me watching her, because she looked up, right into my eyes for a split second before Emmett pulled my attention away, boasting about how he was going to school me in some new video game. I had to teach him a thing or two about respecting his elders. Little twerp can't go talking that trash about me! He wouldn't shut up about it, though, even later, on the ship when Alec and I trampled him and Alice at ping pong. So, I picked him up and threw him in the pool. That shut him up for the rest of the day.

Our family took up the whole row tables along one wall in the dining room. The food was amazing. I dared Emmett to get the frog legs, which he kept holding up to Alice, squicking her out.

After dinner, I spent the evening catching up with Mom and Carlisle and Uncle Garrett and Aunt Kate in a lobby area where a half-decent jazz duo was playing. God, I've missed them.

It's going to be so weird not going home to Chicago with them after this trip. I guess "home" for me now is my little apartment here in California. I wonder if I've already spent my last summer at home with my family?

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

I heard the telltale creak in the hallway just outside the door to the guest bathroom. That creak had gotten me into a lot of trouble the summer I was 17. Dad had a business trip to Europe and Mom tagged along, but I couldn't go—mandatory practice for the swim team. So, I stayed here with them for two weeks, two excruciatingly long, quiet weeks.

When I got an alert about a keg party at the meadow, I jumped at the chance. I told them that Bree and I were going to the movies. I tried to leave the party at 11:00, but our DD had disappeared. We found her 45 minutes later, making out with a football player in the woods. When I finally got home, all I wanted to do was brush my teeth and drop into bed, but—CREEEEEAK—busted!

The look of disappointment in her eyes just about killed me. The story he told about one of his patients—a boy he'd kept healthy since he was a newborn baby who'd died of alcohol poisoning the night before he was supposed to leave for Harvard—made me wish I was dead. They were masters of guilt. They loved me so much and I'd let them down.

Anyway, I knew that creak well. It meant Mom was approaching.

I slammed the journal shut, not wanting to get caught reading on the job when we had so much to do.

* * *

**A/N**

**For those who don't know: Cal is the nickname for the University of California, Berkeley. It's across the bay from San Francisco.**

**Ever have something that triggers an emotional response, like the toy box did for Marie? **

**Please leave a comment. I'd love to hear your thoughts.**

**Thanks,  
Jen**


	3. Chapter 3-Embark

**CourtShip**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 8/16/14**

* * *

Story Summary

In cleaning out a house, sorting through a lifetime of memories and possessions, she happens upon the journals, his and her stories of how it all began: a 50th anniversary, a graduation trip, a cruise that set them on a new course. AH 20-something Bella &amp; Edward. A little angst, but mostly fluffy, romantic fun.

* * *

**A/N**

**No Beta - The mistakes are all mine**

* * *

~ ~ \-0-0-0-/ ~ ~

**CHAPTER 3-Embark**

_I heard the telltale creak in the hallway just outside the door to the guest bathroom._

_I slammed the journal shut, not wanting to get caught reading on the job when we had so much to do…_

…

Since the bookshelves were cleared, their contents sorted and boxed with big black letters designating their fate, I grabbed an empty box and threw open the nearest drawer, hoping to appear busy as Mom entered the room.

_OH, GROSS!_

I slammed it shut just as quickly. Thankfully, Mom hurried straight past me, phone to her ear talking about finding an outfit, headed straight for the walk-in closet.

I was traumatized by the contents of the drawer, but also curious in a masochistic kind of way. It was kind of like picking at a scab: You know it's sure to bleed and maybe scar, but you just can't help yourself.

I should have known. It was the bedside table, but _EWWW_, no one wants to see their grandparents' sex toys. I didn't think grandparents even had sex, much less… _BLECH_!

Morbid curiosity won out and after looking toward the closet and confirming that Mom was yakking away, sliding hangers left and right, completely focused on her task, I slid the drawer open again. I slowly peered inside and cringed at the assortment there.

I didn't even recognize what some of the things were and shuddered to think of who had used them—and why. I gingerly lifted the items one by one, and dropped them into the trash, using a couple of tissues to protect my fingers from anything too disgusting, just like those little wax paper squares you use to lift donuts out of the case at the supermarket.

As I disposed of their dirty little secrets , scuttled their sex life, I realized how very little I actually knew about them. They'd always just… been there, kind of in the background. I loved them, of course, and I learned a lot from them, but…

Thinking back, I realized that each of them had offered me very good advice—some of the best, really, when I chose to listen. But I'd never truly _talked_ to either of my grandparents the way I'd talk to a good friend or confidante. I'd never made that change in perspective that allowed me to see them or talk to them as fellow adults instead of as old people, completely unrelated to my life except by blood.

They were just Grandma and Grandpa, the lovey-dovey grandparents who embarrassed me by kissing and flirting with each other in front of my friends –something no one else's grandparents (or even parents) did. They embarrassed me and I had distanced myself. What a shame.

I sat on the bed, slipping a silk scarf from the drawer through my fingers, and looked over at the journals that rested on its foot, filled with regret. I'd never realized that life could change so quickly, be taken away so unexpectedly. Now, things would never be the same. I'd never have the chance.

I tucked the scarf and a few relatively innocuous items—a book on the kama sutra, a small, unopened bottle of massage oil, a pair of handcuffs that made me blush—into my box of keepsakes in hopes of finding someone special to use them with someday. I'd certainly never be brave enough to buy things like that for myself, so why not?

"Marie?" Mom interrupted my melancholy. "Grab the phone, will you?" She was reaching for a box high on the closet shelf while balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder. "Ask her if it's in the pink box or…"

I spoke into the phone, not sure who'd reply.

"Yes. Tell her it's in the pink box with the stripes," said the voice in the phone. "That's where it should be, anyway." It was my Great Aunt Alice. "How are you holding up, kiddo?" I shrugged, holding back a fresh round of tears that prickled in my nose.

The sniffles she heard were enough of an answer. "Well, I'm headed out there tomorrow to help you guys. Your mom's just trying to find something for Bella, for the funeral. Can you help her pick a nice outfit?"

"Ok," I whispered. I took a deep breath to compose myself and changed the subject to something not so depressing. "Auntie Alice, what does 'WTF' mean?"

"What?!" She was shocked.

I understood once she explained that there was a time when she was young that people used a lot of vulgar language, got tattoos and piercings—even normal people—and did lots of crazy things. She told me about something called texting and explained that several acronyms were developed back then so that common phrases could be typed in quickly.

I gasped when she told me what those particular letters stood for. _Grandpa_ said THAT?!

Auntie Alice laughed at my reaction—she has the cutest little giggle, for an old person.

When that thought crossed my mind, I realized that it was the same attitude I'd been regretting just a few moments before—the one that had kept me at an arm's distance from getting to know my grandparents better—so I kept on talking to her, asking about that time when she was my age and the world was a little different.

Between that conversation and reading my grandparents' old journals, I realized more and more that even though times have changed, people are very much the same. I was eager to get back to their writing, to learn more about them and get to know them better.

Mom reached for the phone, having retrieved the box off the shelf and now in need of Alice's expert opinion, so I said goodbye and returned to the bedroom to finish emptying out the night stands.

I gave the first one a good spray with Lysol—_yuck_! The second one was, thankfully, filled with innocuous items: tissues, lip balm, a pair of reading glasses… and one special thing: another leather bound, black journal, just like all the rest that had lined the shelf, and like the one from the cruise that sat, calling to me.

I flipped open this most recent journal, pulled the red satin ribbon, and turned to the last entry—his final day. It was mundane, ordinary, filled with the kind of busywork a retired overachiever must need to create for himself in order to feel alive and not go crazy with uselessness. He'd gone down to the university and led a session with the group of medical students he mentors, had lunch with someone I've never heard of—must be one of his friends—checked in at "Mom's Place," which confused me because I know that all my great grandparents are gone, and came home and helped Grandma clean the attic.

Ironically, he had balked at the idea of labeling their more valuable items with the names of whomever should inherit them someday… not knowing that 'someday' would hit the very next morning at breakfast, for him, anyway. _Oh, my gosh_…

His final words brought tears to my eyes and made me reach for one of the unused tissues from his night stand.

"…But I just kept my mouth shut, processed the labels, and affixed them to the furniture and artwork and miscellany that she dictated. It hasn't taken me 61 years to learn that I'd do anything my beautiful brown eyed girl asks of me. Hell, from the moment I met her and tried to fix that ridiculous mirror ball cup, she's owned me—heart and soul. And she always will."

I hugged the book to my chest, wanting more, though I knew these words were his last.

Mom passed by just then, a royal blue St. John suit draped over her arm, her hands filled with shoes and accessories. She sat on the bed next to me and I held the book out for her to read.

"He never missed a night that I know of," she mused, glancing toward the shelf I'd emptied of his journals with sadness in her eyes. She sniffed away her tears and forced a watery smile.

"They met on a cruise ship, you know—70s night," she laughed. "He tapped her on the shoulder and she was so surprised she dropped her drink that was in a cup shaped like a disco ball. You probably saw it. It was always right up there." She pointed to another empty shelf and I suddenly remembered what she was talking about. The gaudy plastic thing had seemed so out of place among the more tasteful treasures interspersed with all the books. I never would have guessed it was one of the most important mementos of all.

"Gosh, he loved her so much."

I got up, plucked the shiny sphere from one of the garage sale boxes and offered it to her, seeing my brown eyes—so like _her_ eyes, I've always been told—reflected a hundred times in the mirrored facets. I held it out to Mom, but she just stood, gathering Grandma's clothes, and shook her head gently. "It holds their memories, honey, not mine." She kissed me on the head and left the room, on to the next painful task.

Curious, I leaned over and reached for the journals from the cruise, wondering if they'd reveal the story in any more detail...

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

Her Scrapbook

July 9 – Day at Sea

Last night was so much fun! First of all, I've always heard that cruise food was plentiful and delicious, and it IS. Dinner was unbelievable. It was hard to choose between the five different entrees. Great food, Great conversation. Great time.

Afterwards, we wandered around the ship and found a karaoke bar. We spent some time there, laughing and talking. We even sang a song together: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper. Cliché, I know, but it's karaoke! I'm sure we were awful. People cheered and clapped anyway and we had a great time.

We met these three guys from LA who had just graduated from USC—Mike, Tyler, and Connor. They were pretty nice, in a flirty, frat-boy kind of way. Jessica took a shine to one of them, so we went with them to the dance club for a couple of hours. She was getting pretty cozy with Mike, and when the three of us got back to our room around 1:00 am, she brushed her teeth, fixed her hair, and then left to meet him again. !

Angela and I worried that we should have stopped her, but Jess was determined to go. She was in her bed this morning, thank god, but she was completely zonked out so we left her there and went to breakfast. They seated us with a bunch of other people and it was kind of nice to meet some folks we wouldn't normally talk to.

There was a lady named Jen at our table with her husband and two little kids. She was probably 40 or so and asked us about school and what we planned to do afterwards. She was really nice, but kept getting distracted by her children, so it was hard to hold a conversation with her.

I asked Ang if she'd heard the person getting sick in the room next door last night. That was so disgusting! I made her promise to not let Jess talk me into getting that drunk on this trip. Ugh!

Jen laughed and made Ang promise to make sure I had at least _some_ fun on the cruise. Jeez, what's with all these people? Do I really seem that uptight? So what if my idea of fun is curling up with a good book instead of going out and partying all the time?

Jen leaned over, put her hand on my arm, and said only to me that I reminded her a lot of her younger self and that she wished she'd allowed herself to have a little more fun instead of taking things so seriously, playing things so safe, always being the good girl.

Ok. Whatever!

They have a really nice gym on the ship, so Angela and I went up and used the ellipticals for awhile. Gotta work off at least a few of the calories I've been ingesting!

We were headed back down to shower and change, talking about Jessica and what she may have been doing with Mike last night, when (of course) we passed that cute guy on his way up. Great! Now he's seen me looking all sweaty and gross, heard me gossiping, and thinks that one of my best friends may be kind of a slut. Nice!

We picked Jessica up in the room, had lunch, and headed over to a movie trivia quiz they were having. I only got 6 right, but Jess got 10, and Angela was on a roll—she tied with some guy, getting 22 out of 25 questions. They had a face off, but it was too close to call, so they EACH earned one of the coveted "24 carat gold painted plastic pieces of ship… on stick" trophies. Ha!

The guy, Ben, is really nice. He and Ang got to talking about movies and they really seemed to like each other, so Jessica and I left them to go hang out at the pool. We mostly lay in the sun, but went in the water periodically to cool off. I couldn't stay out there for too long or I'd burn, so I left Jess by the pool and went to explore the ship.

I found my happy place! They have a LIBRARY! It's a tiny little room and the book cases are locked up for all but a few hours of the day—the selection's not that great, anyway. But there are books, and comfortable couches, and peace and quiet—no other people at all. It was so relaxing to sit there and read for awhile. _Sigh_.

Tonight we got dressed up for the "elegant dinner" and had pictures taken afterwards. Guess who I saw waiting with his whole family? That cute guy, of course. And he looks fantastic in a suit. I thought he was attractive before, but… wow! Completely Hot!

His whole huge family posed on a stairway for a group photo. They were laughing and having a great time, even before the photographer told them to do a "crazy" shot. They seem like really fun people. Cute Guy is lucky to have a family like that. They all are.

Jess and Ang and I took our turns posing in front of a really beautiful backdrop and when I had a chance to look again, they were taking a picture of just him with all the kids. He had that toddler in his arms again and was so great with all of them. I wonder if that was a picture of all the cousins, or what? He seems a lot older than the rest of them. I wonder what the story is…

OMG, why am obsessing about this family, this guy? I really should put them out of my mind, but I keep seeing him. I mean, them!

I tried. I really did, but believe it or not, I saw him AGAIN tonight. The girls and I were at the piano bar. We got up to leave, and I saw Cute Guy sitting alone by the door, writing in a book with the most serene, wistful look on his face. He's really beautiful and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. His book looked like a sketchbook or something. I wonder if he's an artist?

As we passed him on our way out, he looked up, almost as if he could sense me watching. I smiled at him and he returned it with the sexiest little crooked smirk. My heart started beating faster and I could feel my face heat up.

In a very bold move for me, I kind of cocked my head towards the door, sort of inviting him to come out and talk to me. His eyes widened and he started to close his book when Jessica grabbed my hand and yanked me out quickly, oblivious to my flirting in her quest to follow Mike. Huh—so much for her #1 priority, right?

We were about 30 feet down the hallway when I turned and saw that he had followed us out and was taking big strides to catch us. I couldn't stop the grin from growing on my face. But then the shrieking girl from yesterday approached from the other direction with some of her friends. She spotted him and yelled out "Edward!" hurrying past my group to stop him and start talking to him about something.

Damn! I turned to look at him again—at least I know his name now—and he kind of shrugged and frowned. I shook my head with regret and then he flashed me that sexy smirk again and he winked.

I smiled, waved my fingertips, and turned back to my friends.

Maybe tomorrow…

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

There were several pages of photographs—his and hers, both from the looks of it—interspersed with her journal entries. And they were the perfect illustrations to the text I'd read. They truly brought her words to life.

I turned to a spread that had two 8x10 formal portraits facing each other and I could almost see it happening… The lovely girl with the long brown hair, all dressed to the nines with her girlfriends, peering from where they posed on a white velvet chaise lounge in front of a beautiful garden backdrop across the lobby to a scene set up for larger group photos, this one on a winding stairway with an ornately carved banister.

The family in the other photo was large and lively, talking and laughing amongst themselves as the photographer kept repositioning them, prompting children to look this way and smile, hoping that no one's eyes were closed as the shutter clicked.

Her eyes sought out one man in particular, midway up on the right side. The camera caught him with a devious look in his eye and the spiky-haired girl in front of him looked to be laughing out loud. Had he said something silly or poked her in the ribs, revealing his lighthearted nature to the girl observing him /looking on from the facing page?

I smiled at the thought, grateful to have the words behind the stories hinted at in the photos.

I flipped through more pages of pictures. There were several snapshots of my grandmother and her friends by the pool and one that must have been her friend Angela with a cruise employee and a guy (Ben, I presume) proudly holding little plastic ship-shaped trophies.

His snapshots included all the smaller family units that made up the Cullen clan, posing with what must have been the anniversary couple. Were those my great-great-grandparents? Wow.

I stopped to look more closely at the portrait labeled "Cullen Cousins" and to match the names and ages listed below it with the children pictured.

_Wow_!

Edward, 23, was the oldest cousin in the bunch. The next in age was a full decade younger: Emmett, it said, 13. I don't know him. Hmm. There were a bunch of other cousins, most of whose names I knew or at least recognized: Rosie and Chelsea, the twins Alec and Jane, Stefan, Lucy, and there was Alice. I took in a breath of surprise to see my Auntie Alice as a 12 year old girl. She was adorable and her effervescent personality was captured even on these flat, old-fashioned photographs. Finally, the toddler in Edward's arms was listed as 15 month-old…

"Yoo Hoo, anybody home?"

I jumped to my feet, left the book on the bed and rushed to greet them at the front door…

* * *

**A/N**

**Whom do you suppose is at the door? **

**Have you ever learned something about your parents or grandparents when they were young that surprised you?**

**A huge thanks this week to Tarbecca for including CourtShip in the weekly Fic Dive on A Different Forest net and welcome to the new readers. **

**Please review. The last chapter only got 8. That's not enough, at ALL! **


	4. Chapter 4 - Aweigh

**CourtShip**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**No Beta—mistakes are mine.**

**Posted 10/4/14**

* * *

Story Summary

In cleaning out a house, sorting through a lifetime of memories and possessions, she happens upon the journals, his and her stories of how it all began: a 50th anniversary, a graduation trip, a cruise that set them on a new course. AH 20-something Bella &amp; Edward. A little angst, but mostly fluffy, romantic fun.

* * *

**A/N**

Huge thanks to **Just4Me** who has come aboard to join me on this journey as a pre-reader.

She and a few of you who left reviews suggested a family tree, to help keep all those Crazy Cullens straight! Hope this helps…

**Cullen Family 2014 (aboard the cruise ship Eclipse)**

Great Grandma Didi (Pops' mom)

Pops &amp; Nanny (Afton &amp; Renata)

Liam (48) &amp; Siobhan – Emmett (13) &amp; Rosalie (9)

Garrett (45) &amp; Kate – Alec &amp; Jane (6), Chelsea (8)

Esme (42) &amp; Carlisle – Edward (23) &amp; Alice (12)

Peter (36) &amp; Charlotte – Stefan (7), Lucy (5), &amp; Jasper (2)

* * *

~ ~ \-0-0-0-/ ~ ~

**CHAPTER 4 - Aweigh**

…_the toddler in Edward's arms was listed as 15 month-old…_

"_Yoo Hoo, anybody home?" _

_I jumped to my feet, left the book on the bed and rushed to greet them at the front door…_

…

"Whoa!" I stopped in my tracks, startled to see the tall box that nearly filled the doorway, with my Uncle Jasper's blonde head peeking over the top. I grabbed the corners and helped guide it through. "THAT's a big box!"

He chuckled and set it down in the front hallway. "Thanks to this one and all her clothes, we have five more out in the truck." He nodded toward my cousin, who'd been holding the screen door open behind him. She rolled her eyes at him as Mom approached and pulled her into a hug.

"How you doing, kiddo?" he asked me, leaning an elbow casually on the top of the box as Mom and Christina chattered nearby. His voice was tender, realizing we'd been at an emotionally draining task all day. I shrugged, looking at the letters on the front of the box and tracing them with my finger—W-A-R-D-R-O-B-E—not wanting to think about it and risk the tears that would inevitably follow.

"Hey, Uncle Jasper," I said, changing the subject, "I just saw a picture of you when you were a baby and you were SO CUTE!"

"Oh, I want to see!" Christina, having overheard, gave a little bounce, excited to see what her dad looked like then.

He's not actually my uncle. Mom's an only child. I guess my grandma almost died having her and couldn't have any more kids after that, but there are a gazillion "cousins" in our family, so everybody's just Cousin This or Uncle That or whatever.

Anyway, Uncle Jasper is only about five years older than Mom and they're super close—like brother and sister. He used to come up here to Chicago every summer to stay with them after his family moved to Texas when he was eight or nine, so they kind of grew up together.

Grandpa was like a second father to him and Mom warned me that he was taking this all pretty hard. I thought the pictures might give him something to smile about. He's already had a really rough year. He just went through a nasty divorce after discovering that Aunt Maria (well, not "aunt" anymore) was cheating on him. The only good thing to come of it was that he and Christina moved back here. They'd only been here a few weeks when grandpa…

"Baby pictures, huh?" He looked intrigued.

But Mom wasn't having any slacking off. "You can show them later, Honey. Right now, you and Christina are in charge of getting all the clothes from the house into these boxes. Now, let's go get the rest of them."

Back in the master bedroom (the walk-in closet this time) it should have been a pretty quick job to load up their clothes—a lot faster than the books had been, anyway. The boxes had metal bars across the inside so you could transfer the hangers directly from the closet rods into them. They reminded me of the old steamer trunks from the movies.

It _should_ have been quick, but we kept getting distracted.

"Hey, remember this?" Christina held a familiar emerald green dress against her chest and unfurled the skirt with her other hand. There's a picture on the mantle of Grandma in that dress with Uncle Jasper in his Ph.D. regalia years ago. She'd also worn it to my college ceremony a couple of years ago. And when she showed up wearing it to the high school graduation party they'd held for Christina and our other cousin, Paul last spring, we'd teased her about it being "the graduation dress."

We'd all laughed together and said that everyone in the family must have a picture like that: a cap and gown, and Grandma in the green dress! It did look very pretty on her…

Christina checked the tag. "Maybe I should save it and wear it when I graduate from college. Do you think she'd mind?" Her voice was joking but her eyes were not.

"I think she'd be honored, Chris."

We played fashion critic as we loaded her wardrobe into the boxes. Most of the clothes were cute and modern—the latest in septuagenarian fashion, thanks to Auntie Alice who's a professional stylist. But there was stuff tucked in the back corners that must have been decades old.

Some of the clothes were so dated or tacky that we just had to try them on. It was like playing dress-up when we were kids. The silliness started when Christina put on a gigantic, floppy sunhat and a big, gauzy scarf.

"Hey, do you remember when we used to put on these hats and Grandma would get dressed up, too, and have a tea party with us?" I nodded fondly and draped a long string of beads around my neck.

"Oh—and remember the time the dog started yanking on the belt of that big flowery dress you were wearing and pulled you away from the table?"

"Oh my gosh, he just wouldn't stop! I was in her big, sparkly high heels that were a million sizes too big, trying not to fall over…" We were laughing hysterically at this point.

"You were screaming and crying at that crazy dog—what was his name?"

"Quil."

"Quill! That's right! And Grandma and I were running around the yard, trying to catch him, and he just kept dragging you in that big, flowery dress." Tears were running down my face, I was laughing so hard as she flailed her arms around, mimicking what I had looked like.

"And then all it took was a whistle from Grandpa," I remembered. " My hero!"

We howled with laughter as memory after memory surfaced.

Mom heard us giggling, came in and saw how few clothes had actually made it into the boxes, and told us to stop goofing off.

"But Mom," I pleaded, fur hat atop my head, "how can we possibly part with _this_? This just demands some sort of acknowledgement." I joked, holding up one of Grandma's famous Christmas sweaters, adorned with a colorful and oh-so-tacky Christmas tree with lights that really lit up. I remembered how cool I thought that was when I was five or six—real lights! She grinned and shook her head, reaching for the hideous thing and hugging it to her chest.

"Keep what you want, girls, but pizza will arrive in 15 minutes and I want this room _done_, ok?" She walked off, keeping the sweater. "I had a matching child-sized one, you know," she quipped on her way out, dropping the stern demeanor, "and Daddy had a sweater vest."

It was a more somber job after that, as we realized that we were seeing these clothes, some of which still smelled like Grandma's perfume, for the last time.

As we worked, I told Christina about the journals I'd found. I was so excited to be learning their stories, hearing about their romance, and I tried to describe the feeling I'd had: How I'd wished that I'd been a little more mature about our age difference and made an attempt to get to know them better.

I must not have explained myself very well because she just didn't seem to get what I was saying, at all. Maybe it's because Christina's only 19. A year or two ago I wouldn't have cared, either.

Uncle Jasper peeked his head in to let us know that pizza had arrived for dinner and started snickering at our ridiculous get-ups.

"Oh, Uncle Jaz, you've got to see what I found!" I was dying to show him the pictures I'd seen of him as a baby, so I rushed out of the closet—hat, costume jewelry and all—toward the scrapbook with all the pictures in it. I lifted it to him just as Mom called out that the pizza was getting cold, so I grabbed both of the cruise journals and followed them toward the dining room.

Christina got a real kick out of the photos of her dad as a baby. As the three of them flipped through the pages, of Grandma's scrapbook, I eagerly opened Grandpa's journal to the page where I'd left off…

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

His Journal

**July 9, 2014 - Wednesday**

I just attended the 50th wedding anniversary celebration for my wonderful grandparents, Afton and Renata Cullen. I asked Pops what the secret is to finding love that lasts like theirs and keeping it alive.

Here are a few pieces of his advice:

-Keep looking until you find the girl who makes your heart sing. Pops said he had been engaged to another girl when he met Nana and while he hated breaking the other girl's heart, he knew that Renata was the one to spend his life with.

-On getting married: Figure out the things about each other that you DON'T like and work out how you're going to live with those traits. Accept that those things will never change and figure out how to be happy in spite of them.

-Remind yourself and her every single day that she's adored and desired. The glow of new love will wear off, but remember what it felt like and keep a little piece of it shining every day. Tell her you love her, kiss her with passion, gaze in her eyes, notice things she does or things you find attractive and compliment her. Every. Day.

-Agree that quitting your marriage is not an option. Take the D word out of your vocabulary. Realize that there will be times—not days, not weeks, but YEARS—when things are hard and you don't like each

[_Note in the margin with an arrow pointing to the abrupt ending:_ Sorry I didn't finish this, but I had a close encounter with that girl just as I was writing it down.]

**July 9, 2014 – Wednesday (continued)**

Damn it, Alice! That girl has the worst possible timing, I swear!

I was THIS CLOSE to finally meeting my brown eyed beauty when f-ing Alice had to come screeching at me, introducing me to a bunch of her silly little friends. Thank you, Alice, I did not need to meet a bunch of giggly 12 year old girls. Not when I had a gorgeous Berkeley co-ed sending me come-hither looks.

Oh my god, she f-ing noticed me. I couldn't believe it. She looked right at me and smiled. I'd been seeing her around the ship all day. It's funny how you keep noticing certain people: the really tall teenager with the lime green turban that matched his t-shirt; the Chinese albino guy; the lady in the burqua (in 100' heat); the old white-haired guy with crazy eyebrows that were about an inch long; and, of course, the beautiful brown-eyed Berkeley girl. She's the best.

I was headed upstairs for a run after breakfast this morning when I saw her the first time. What a way to start my day. I heard some girls talking in the stairwell about a friend who'd met a guy last night—first night on the ship. They were betting whether she'd slept with him or not—first night on the ship.

As I climbed up and they passed me on their way down from the gym, I saw that SHE was the one arguing against the hook up, saying that she knew the friend had better morals than that. I suppose that means she's got some morals herself, or at least that she's a loyal friend. It's also nice to know that she works out, even on vacation.

The ship has a running track, but it's tiny—10 laps to a mile. I had to change direction every so often to keep from getting dizzy. It felt good to exercise after all that food. Later, I played miniature golf with some of the cousins. They have a 9 hole course at the top of the ship. It was fun, but Jasper kept picking up our balls and bringing them back to us, his cute toddler waddle even more shaky on the moving floor of the ship. He's so cute.

After lunch, we held a mean Cullen card tournament out by one of the pools. I was killing the uncles until I got distracted by that girl again. She was getting out of the water: purple bikini… perfect curves… nipples. Yeah, my shorts got a little tight. Thank god we were sitting around the table, though the way I completely lost concentration on our game was a dead giveaway.

Uncle Garrett turned to see where I was looking. "Purple, or black?" he asked, which immediately made Carlisle and Peter look, too. Jeez, way to be obvious! To my horror, the three of them started trying to guess which girl I was checking out, and then Carlisle called Mom over to take my place in the game.

She went on and on about how everyone felt bad that I was the only one my age, and how I didn't have to feel obligated to hang out with the family all the time, and that I should go and make some friends my own age.

Friends… right. Carlisle was behind her, pushing in her chair when she said that, and he almost started laughing out loud.

While all this was transpiring, Berkeley girl managed to pack all her stuff up and tie a long scarf/dress thing over her tits, covering everything up, and leave. Great! She was halfway across the deck and headed for the stairs. What was I supposed to do, run after her? I don't even know her name.

So, I did a cannonball into the pool and splashed Emmett and Alice instead. It was juvenile, but sometimes it's fun to just goof around with them. Rosie started crying and Chelsea was pissed because I got their hair wet. _Great_.

Later tonight we got all dressed up for the big event of the cruise—Nanny and Pops' vow renewal and 50th anniversary celebration. It's the reason we're all here on this cruise. They're the whole reason any of us are here, period.

Wow, 50 years together. I can't even imagine it. Pops was a year younger than I am when they got married, and a year after that Nanny was pregnant with Uncle Liam. How does that happen? How do you find someone to spend your whole life with? How do you know it's right? How do you make it work for 50 years? Or even one?

I asked Pops about it during dinner and we had a good, long talk. He's so in love with her, still, and he shared some of his secrets for making love last.

Of course, I need to find someone to fall in love with first, and his advice on that wasn't very helpful—the same thing you always hear: "you'll just know." I'm so f-ing sick of hearing that. I don't know, maybe I'm too quiet or too focused on school or just too cynical to meet the right girl, but it just doesn't seem to be happening for me. Anyway, assuming I ever find "the one," his advice for keeping her happy was pretty great.

When all the olds and the youngs headed back to their rooms for bed, I dashed across the hall to the first relatively quiet place I could find—the piano bar—to write down everything he'd said before I could forget.

And that's when I saw her again. She smiled at me… I followed her… And then my stupid, annoying sister ruined it! Fuck!

Maybe I'll find her tomorrow…

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

Marie

It made me squirm a little to read his desirous thoughts while I was sitting there with Mom, and Uncle Jasper, and Christina nearby. I'm sure I was blushing!

Then I thought about my own grandparents' 50th anniversary a few years ago, when they went on a cruise… to Mexico. Oh my gosh. I had no idea how significant that was for them. Why in the world didn't I know any of this? They'd wanted the whole family to go—all the aunties and uncles and cousins—but it was right when the economy was a mess and nobody had any money so they just ended up going with Great-grandpa Carlisle and Auntie Alice and they a big party here for everyone else.

I remembered talking to Grandma at the party and my heart sunk. She'd been so excited about going and wished Mom, Dad, and I could go, too. She'd been saying something about how 'magical things can happen on cruises' when Christina had bounced over and grabbed my arm.

"I gotta feeling... That tonight's gonna be a good night..." she'd sung. "Come on Marie! Grams, I have to steal her for this song. I'll bring her back, I promise!"

I tried to stop the tears in my eyes from spilling over. There had been so many tears already these past several days.

I glanced over at Uncle Jasper, slice of pizza in his hand, laughing with Mom at the photos they saw. It was a moment of levity that was pretty rare this last week and I didn't want to spoil it. It's really hard to imagine that this 50-something man who wore all the cares in the world on his tired face was the same little guy who'd toddled around the miniature golf course, picking up people's colorful golf balls.

Christina and Uncle Jasper left after dinner. He had just started his new job here and had to work first thing in the morning, so he used his tape gun (which is a pretty cool contraption) to seal decades worth of fashion choices into the wardrobe boxes, and, exhausted after a long, emotionally draining day, decided to head home to get some rest.

Mom and I stayed a little longer so we could finish the rooms we'd been working on. I finished the master bedroom pretty quickly and I should have offered to help her finish up in the office, but the books were calling to me. I probably wouldn't be much help, anyway, because she was going through all the files and paperwork pretty carefully.

I opened Grandma's scrapbook to read another chapter…

* * *

**A/N**

**Do you have any clothes that remind you of a certain person, place, or event? **

**Please leave a review. I'd love to hear what you think.**

**Jen**

Cullen Family Cruisers – 2014:

Great Grandma Didi (Pops' mom)

Pops &amp; Nanny (Afton &amp; Renata)

Liam (48) &amp; Siobhan – Emmett (13) &amp; Rosalie (9)

Garrett (45) &amp; Kate – Alec &amp; Jane (6), Chelsea (8)

Esme (42) &amp; Carlisle – Edward (23) &amp; Alice (12)

Peter (36) &amp; Charlotte – Stefan (7), Lucy (5), &amp; Jasper (2)


	5. Chapter 5-Cast Off

**CourtShip**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 11/7/14**

* * *

Story Summary

In cleaning out a house, sorting through a lifetime of memories and possessions, she happens upon the journals, his and her stories of how it all began: a 50th anniversary, a graduation trip, a cruise that set them on a new course. AH 20-something Bella &amp; Edward. A little angst, but mostly fluffy, romantic fun.

* * *

~ ~ \-0-0-0-/ ~ ~

**CHAPTER 5 – Cast Off**

_I opened her scrapbook to read another chapter…_

…

I had barely settled in to read when Mom appeared in the doorway. "Ready to go?" she asked, running a hand over her disheveled hair, trying in vain to smooth the wispy tendrils back into the elastic that had contained them earlier in the day.

I jumped. My immediate reaction was to slam the scrapbook shut and hide it under the pillow next to me, but I was too late. Caught. Guilty of reading instead of working…

Mom chuckled tiredly from the doorway, where she leaned against the frame. "It's ok, Honey. You've been working hard." She sat on the bed next to me, toed her shoes off, and stretched her feet out in front of her with a sigh. She picked up the leather bound journal I'd laid aside and ran her fingers over the golden letters on the cover.

"He wrote in these every night," she remembered, wistfully. "I used to climb into bed right here between them whenever I couldn't sleep. Mom would read me a story or talk to me about my day and Dad would stop just long enough to kiss the top of my head and tap the end of my nose with the back of his pen. Then he went right back to writing until he was done and I could climb into his lap for a hug."

She opened the book and thumbed through the pages, stopping somewhere near the middle. Whatever she read there made her smile around the tears that had started to form. "It's a beautiful story, isn't it?"

My eyes widened slightly as I looked at her. "You've read these?"

"Of course," she nodded and looked at me as she scooched back to lean more comfortably against the headboard. She adjusted one of the pillows behind her. "One year I brought my boyfriend home from college to meet them, so your grandma took me aside when the guys were watching football and…"

"Was it Dad?" I interrupted.

"No. It was someone else."

That was a hard concept to fathom.

"Grandma brought me in here and dug around in the closet for awhile. And then she gave me these books you've been reading. She said she was so happy I'd fallen in love that she wanted to share her own love story with me." She shook her head with a chuff and explained that Grandma knew exactly what she was doing.

_Huh_?

"I thought he was so he was so perfect—Jacob was his name—but reading Mom and Dad's story made me realize that something wasn't quite right about us." She ran her hand over the cover of the book, tenderly. "He and I only made it halfway through the next semester," she chuckled. "We broke up and then I graduated and started working, and… a few years later I met your dad." A small smile crossed her face, and her eyes were distant for a moment, lost in a memory that gave her glow strong enough to overpower the tired, grey mask of sadness she'd worn all day.

"They were so in love…" she murmured, gazing at one of the photos in the book I held.

I leaned my head on Mom's shoulder and sighed, nodding in agreement.

I told her that I hadn't really gotten that far yet—I still hadn't even reached the part where they'd actually met—but from the descriptions of their very first sightings of each other, I was hooked. It was so romantic.

I explained that I'd been switching back and forth between the two books so I could keep the story in chronological order. That slowed me down, but provided a really fascinating side-by-side, his-and-hers description of what they were thinking.

Mom laughed and told me I was just like Grandpa—so meticulous! He'd always been careful to record every little detail in his perfect block printing. I smiled and nodded, knowing that handwriting well.

"So, where did you leave off?"

I read aloud…

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

Her Scrapbook

**Day 3: Cabo San Lucas**

I woke up this morning to the engines churning, the ship rocking, and a beautiful view of the rocky outcroppings along the shore of Cabo San Lucas from our window. (We have a nice big rectangular window with a very deep sill—much better than the little porthole I'd expected. We've been keeping our menagerie of towel animals there. We find a new critter from our room steward each night &amp; they're way too cute to unfold!)

Today we decided to try having breakfast at the buffet, hoping it would be faster than the restaurant, and it was fantastic. You could choose anything you'd ever want for breakfast. They even had people there cooking omelets to order. Yum!

The ship was too big to dock along the shore, so we took a smaller boat called a tender over to the pier. My dad was really worried about the crime rate in Mexico and had made us promise to travel in groups, so the girls and I decided to go on one of the excursions offered by Twilight Cruise Line: Swim With the Dolphins.

We went to an aquarium where they split us into small groups and gave us some training. Then each person got to do a trick in the water with a dolphin. It was so cool! I did a thing where you hold on in front of their dorsal fins and they pull you around the perimeter of the pool. They can swim really fast! And their skin feels like rubber. Jessica and Angela did a trick together, each holding one end of a pole above their heads while a dolphin jumped over. I got a great picture of it.

Afterwards, we had lunch and did some shopping. The street vendors were very persistent. I ended up buying a bracelet that I didn't really want. I only wanted to look at it, but once I made the mistake of picking it up, he wouldn't take it back. Seven dollars later, I am the not-so-proud owner of a silver bracelet, and am learning not to be quite so nice when I say "no."

I'm glad Jessica was with us. If she hadn't been there to help, I probably would have come back to the boat with my hair in little braids like all the five year old girls. Persistent, I tell ya!

More later. We're headed out to dinner and a show and whatever else the evening may bring. Ben's going to meet us for the show. I think Angela really likes him. Can't wait to see what happens with that!

.

.

.

Oh my god, I'm floating, soaring. Edward…

The girls and I went to a show in the theater tonight. It was a big production with singing and dancing, elaborate costumes and sets. It was kind of cheesy and overdone, but we had a lot of fun. Each of us got a drink in a souvenir cup that looks like an 8" disco ball. Hee hee. Cheesy fun was the theme for tonight, through and through.

When we left, we got separated in the crowd. As the two aisles converged into one near the doors, I felt a hand on my shoulder, right where I'd gotten sunburned during the dolphin thing. I yelped in pain and pulled away just as I heard a masculine voice saying, "hi."

In my surprise, I dropped the disco ball, spilling my drink all over the floor, and almost got trampled when I bent down to pick it up. Whoever it was swooped down and grabbed the ball with one hand and pulled me up by the arm with his other hand, nudging me out of the crowd and into the nearest row of empty seats.

He took a step back from me and raised his hands in surrender just as I turned to see who it was, both of us saying, "sorry" at the same time.

Oh my god, it was the cute guy, and he looked so concerned. I was completely embarrassed for being such a spaz.

He apologized profusely, saying he never should have touched me and pinching the bridge of his nose. I thought it odd that he was so contrite, but I suppose it's better to be too polite than not polite enough, right? I touched his arm to pull his hand away from his face and felt warmth rush to my fingers. I could feel every little hair on his arm.

He seemed relieved as I explained about my sunburn, and then he apologized for that. The guy was so nervous, I felt bad for him. I set my broken disco ball cup down, put my hands on his biceps (nice!), and asked him to relax as I backed him onto the love seat behind him.

He leaned back in his seat, buried his hands in his hair, and said, "That went so much differently than I had planned."

I laughed a little and joked that maybe he'd planned for the tiny loud girl to somehow get between us. He rolled his eyes and complained about his sister and her keen ability to know just when to interfere.

He tried to apologize again and when I stopped him, he offered to replace my drink.

OMG, it was so funny! He kept saying these double entendres without even realizing it. With the knowledge I had, especially after a drink and a half, it seemed hilarious. The poor guy had no idea why I was trying not to giggle and kept inadvertently digging himself in deeper and deeper. I should have stopped him, but it was just too funny.

Here's what he said:

_I at least owe you another one of these._

_Here, can you hold this? _

_I think if I just push here and jiggle this a little… there, it slides right in. _(He was fixing my disco ball.)

_Really, let me give you another. _

_Come on…_

_Actually, I think we could both use one. _

_What's your pleasure?_

We approached the bar and I couldn't hold my laughter in any longer as he said that last one. He looked at me like I was a crazy person. I was laughing so hard that tears came to my eyes as I asked the bartender for her pen so that I could write down everything he'd said on a cocktail napkin.

I held the napkin up for him to see, asking whether his subconscious was trying to tell him something. He considered it for a moment, looked at me, and slid his payment card across the bar. "The lady will have a… Sex on the beach?" I snickered a little, my laughing spell mostly over, and told him he was close. I wrote, in big capital letters across the bottom of the napkin, "A SCREAMING ORGASM."

He cursed under his breath, shook his head, and pinched his nose again before pointing at the words and holding up two fingers to the bartender, his face bright red.

We finally exchanged names, since he was giving me orgasms and all—ha! "Edward" was surprised that I already knew his name and I admitted that I'd been, um… _observing_ him and his family. Turns out, he'd been _observing_ me, too, so then I didn't feel like such a creeper.

We talked for a long time. He's really, really nice. And interesting. And smart. I like him… a lot.

Jess and Ang and some new friends stumbled upon us as they were passing through the deck, so I introduced them to Edward. Jess gave me a big hug and her hands landed right on my sore back—ouch!

They said that everyone was planning to go parasailing the next day, and invited Edward and me. After a few minutes, Ang gave me a sly smile and pulled Jess away so I could keep talking to him.

He was concerned about my sunburn and said he knew of something that could help, but he was nervous to suggest it. Turns out, his solution was getting into a hot tub or very hot shower. He was explaining all sorts of technical stuff about histamines or something. I think that he didn't want it to seem like he was trying to get me into my bikini when we'd just met. What a gentleman, huh? (Later he let it slip that he'd already seen me in my purple one the other day around the pool, anyway.)

So, we changed and met back up at the hot tub in the no-kids area of the ship. I did a little happy dance when I went back to the room to change. He's so cute and so nice and so… perfect! And when I went to the hot tub he was there, waiting for me. (sigh)

It hurt like hell when the hot water hit my sunburn, so I couldn't stay in too long. I just sat up on the side with my feet in the water when it got to be too much.

I love talking to Edward! I felt like we could have kept talking forever, but when it started approaching 1:00 am, we knew needed to get some sleep if we were going to go parasailing tomorrow. He walked me back to my room and got all nervous again. I thought it was because he wanted to kiss me, but then he handed me a bottle of aloe vera, kissed me on the back of my hand, and turned to leave.

I didn't want him to go. Ever.

I leaned against the door with a huge smile on my face as soon as it shut, and my girls excitedly asked me all about him. We stayed up for another hour talking about him, and even after they drifted off, I couldn't sleep.

I'm excited and nervous and full of adrenaline just thinking about him. He's… god, I can't even express everything he makes me feel. And I've only known him for a few hours. I can't wait to see him again in the morning.

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

Marie

Oh my gosh, I was horrified to read the word "orgasm" to my mom! So I didn't—I just said the "screaming" part and she filled in the rest, laughing at me for being so innocent.

That actually led to a really good talk about how reading these books today has made Grandma and Grandpa both seem much more real and relatable to me—seeing their thoughts when they were around my age. Mom seemed to understand exactly what I meant (unlike Christina) when I told her how much regret I was feeling. That brought some tears to her eyes and she revealed that she'd felt exactly the same way when her own grandmother, Esme, passed away.

How strange to realize that Mom had these same kinds of feelings when she was my age. I guess there's a lot I could talk to her about. She's always said I could talk to her about anything if I needed to, but she's always been… I don't know, MOM, you know? Kids just don't talk to their parents about certain things (like orgasms—oh my gosh!) I don't think I'll EVER feel comfortable discussing THAT, but it might not be so bad opening up to Mom about certain things, since she's been through it all before and everything. Hmm…

We flipped through the photos and saw a bunch of Grandma and her friends with those dolphins. Wow—they'd never allow something like that nowadays!

We saw the napkin that Grandma had written on, too. It was yellowed and a little shriveled, but you could still see the words she'd written. Mom giggled as she read them, adding the name of the drink to the end of each phrase he'd said. Then she started to describe what's in the drink. (Uh, yeah Mom, I know that—not that I'd admit it to you!) I tried to change the subject by digging through the box of things I wanted to save, looking for that cup shaped like a mirror ball. How neat to know the true story behind it—even the embarrassing parts, I guess!

Mom started giggling and pointed out the hinge that must have popped apart when she dropped it. "this must be the part he needed to 'press and jiggle a little so it could slide right in,'" she noted, wiggling her eyebrows at the innuendo.

O…K… Time to go! I shook my head and tried to ignore her. Then I grabbed my box of memories salvaged from their home. I had to open up the flaps to put the big, shiny cup in there, and did it as quickly as possible, hoping Mom wouldn't see the things I'd salvaged from their (ahem) special drawer! Gosh—I feel like such a hypocrite, collecting dirty things when I can't even say the words to describe them!

Mom slid on her shoes and stretched her arms up in the air as I grabbed a few things hanging in the closet that I wanted to keep, my box, and of course, the cruise journals.

Then we headed home for some well-needed rest. Tomorrow would be another long, hard day of packing away the evidence of the beautiful life they'd built together.

* * *

**A/N**

**OK—Embarrassing conversations with your parents (or your kids)… Hit me!**

**Thanks to Just4Me for offering excellent suggestions as a pre-reader. I'm so glad you're sharing this journey with me!**

**And thanks to you for reading, reviewing, rec'ing, and all that great stuff. I love hearing your reactions.**

**Jen**

Cullen Family Cruisers – 2014:

Great Grandma Didi (Pops' mom)

Pops &amp; Nanny (Afton &amp; Renata)

Liam (48) &amp; Siobhan – Emmett (13) &amp; Rosalie (9)

Garrett (45) &amp; Kate – Alec &amp; Jane (6), Chelsea (8)

Esme (42) &amp; Carlisle – Edward (23) &amp; Alice (12)

Peter (36) &amp; Charlotte – Stefan (7), Lucy (5), &amp; Jasper (2)


	6. Chapter 6-Put to Sea

**CourtShip**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 12/7/14**

* * *

Story Summary

In cleaning out a house, sorting through a lifetime of memories and possessions, she happens upon the journals, his and her stories of how it all began: a 50th anniversary, a graduation trip, a cruise that set them on a new course. AH 20-something Bella &amp; Edward. A little angst, but mostly fluffy, romantic fun.

* * *

**A/N**

**Thanks to Maplestyle, mo kagen, Naerts, sh8svgrey, and Just4Me for your reviews of chapter 5. I'm glad to know at least 5 people like this story! Does anyone else? I'd love to hear from you.**

* * *

**~ ~ \-0-0-0-/ ~ ~**

**CHAPTER 6 – Put to Sea**

…_we headed home for some well-needed rest. Tomorrow would be another long, hard day of packing away the evidence of the beautiful life they'd built together. _

OK, I couldn't wait! Mom and I were both anxious to know what Grandpa had to say about the day they met, so I switched on the light on my phone and read the next chapter from his journal aloud in the car as Mom drove.

At first, she teased me about reading with a deeper voice than normal—it was HIS chapter, after all! But when we realized what he'd written, straight away in the first paragraph, we both sobered and took it more seriously. It was so very special and heartfelt… and prophetic, given 50 years' hindsight.

I read aloud…

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

His Journal

Day 3: Cabo San Lucas

It's funny to look back at what I wrote just last night—the frustration I felt at Pops' assurance that I'd just "know" when the right girl came along—because I think I've found her. Could it have been only 24 hours ago that I felt so lonely and so hopeless, because right now I can't contain my smile. I feel as though my heart will pound out of my chest; like I can't get enough air in my lungs. I'm grateful and hopeful and happy and oh, so excited.

Today was great, but tonight… tonight I met Isabella Swan, and I don't think I'll ever be the same.

Today was fun. La Familia de Cullen descended upon Cabo San Lucas. We took a water taxi (2 actually) over to a beautiful beach.

Aunt Charlotte had thought ahead and reserved a room at one of the big waterfront resorts, so we could all hang out at their pools, use their beach cabanas, and so the littles could go up to the room for naps. It was also a good way to escape the swarms of vendors on the public part of the beach.

After doing some body surfing with Emmett, I got in the pool and played with the kids. Janie loved it when I picked her up and threw her into the water. She was squealing with delight, so a bunch of cousins started climbing up me, begging me to throw them in, too—over and over again. It was fun until one of them stomped a tiny foot right into my nuts. Ouch—time for a break in the grown up pool.

They had a bar you could swim right up to, so I ordered a beer and sat on a submerged stool for some alone-time.

That lasted about two minutes. Uncle Garrett swam up and started talking to me. It was great until he started pointing out girls that I should approach. Maybe it was just an excuse for him to check out some girls in bikinis without Aunt Kate yelling at him. For some reason, I didn't really find any of them that attractive. I think I just needed some down-time.

I love my family, but being around ALL of them for 3 days straight has been exhausting. I've gotten used to a little more privacy while I've been away at school.

It wasn't in the cards, though. We went back to the ship en masse, had dinner en masse, and went to a show in the theatre en masse.

And then I met Miss Bella Swan. (I smile every time I think her name.)

We were crawling along with the big crowd trying to leave the "Musical Extravaganza," when I saw her—my brown eyed beauty— five or six feet ahead in the crowd. It was mostly my own family between us so I was able to maneuver myself into position directly behind her. The crowd shuffled forward a few more steps as I tried to think of the right words to say to her.

Carlisle leaned in to quietly offer some words of advice. "Just say hi," he offered sagely, so I did. And that's when I made my first mistake.

It's a miracle that Bella talked to me at all. Bella… Beauty… what a perfect name. I'd been calling her my "brown eyed beauty" since I first saw her.

Anyway, with the horrible first impression I made, (and the second, and the third) I'm surprised she didn't run away from me, screaming.

First, I touched her and made her jump and spill her special drink. The sound she made was horrible—a yelp to rival the time I rolled over Jake's paw in my roller blades when I was 12. I thought I scared her. I thought maybe she'd been abused or the victim of a crime that made her wary of men or something.

God, did Mom teach me nothing? Never, ever touch a woman without her permission, she's always said. _Stupid, Edward!_

Then, when I found out that it was pain from a sunburn instead of fear that made her jump, I was relieved, happy. _Glad to hurt her? What an ass!_

And then for the rest of the night, I kept making these sexual innuendos and creepy suggestions. I didn't mean to, it's just like there was no filter between my head (either of them) and my mouth. She's so sexy, I couldn't… think.

Somehow she was able to see past my idiocy, my insensitivity, and my crudeness. She's got a great sense of humor and even played me. It's documented in writing:

"I at least owe you another one of these… screaming orgasms.

Here, can you hold this?

I think if I just push here and jiggle this a little… there, it slides right in.

Really, let me give you another… screaming orgasm.

Come on…

Actually, I think we could both use one… screaming orgasm.

What's your pleasure?" …a screaming orgasm.

God, could I put my foot into my mouth any further? Accidentally offering orgasms to a complete stranger who happens to be absolutely gorgeous? Nope, you can't get much sleazier than that.

I thought it appropriate to introduce myself, at the very least. And then I'd leave her, humiliated, tail between my legs, and attempt to avoid her for the rest of the cruise. But that's not what happened. Instead, her laughter and my supreme embarrassment seemed to break the ice.

She admitted that she'd been watching me almost as much as I'd been watching her. She knew my name. She'd made observations about my family. She seemed to know so much about me, and yet we'd just met.

Bella is incredible. Talking to her was easy, comfortable. Conversation flowed. We finished each other's sentences, laughed at each other's jokes before reaching the punch line. We had so much in common, and learned that we share similar values.

I even liked her friends, and could see how the three of them fit together. Jessica, the bold one, pushes her. Angela, the wise one, keeps her grounded. And Bella complements both of them perfectly in her own way.

We were getting along great, and then I had to go and suggest we sit in the hot tub. Cue 70s porno music. _Jeez, Edward, you were doing so well!_ I honestly just wanted to suggest a way to help ease her sunburn, and when I explained that, she laughed and teased me about wanting to see her in a bikini.

How does she do that? She puts me at ease every time I screw up. She calms me when I start to feel nervous.

We talked for almost an hour in the hot tub. It was easy, comfortable. I felt like we'd known each other forever, and each turn in the conversation was just revealing a little more about this best friend I'd never met before.

And then she got hot. _Heh—yeah, she's hot!_ But I mean she got physically hot from the hot tub. And then she was out of the water, sitting on the edge, dripping wet. Holy shit! Talk about revealing a little more. The bikini she wore this time was black, with little… frilly… something. I don't know, whatever! She was fricking glorious.

All coherent thought left my brain as I watched water droplets roll down over her… _Oh, man, I'm in trouble!_ I fought hard to maintain control, to keep my eyes on her face instead of her chest, the curve of her waist, her long legs as she slowly kicked them back and forth in the steaming, frothy water.

I managed to pull it together and was rewarded with more engaging conversation. Her beauty and sexiness aside, I really like Bella. She's kind and thoughtful, quirky and funny, interesting and so very perceptive. She really "gets" me, knows exactly what I mean, and laughs when I'm trying to be funny.

I could have talked all night. Instead, I walked her to her room. Everything inside me screamed, "touch her, kiss her, rub that lotion on her back," but I was a gentleman. I want so much more than to touch her, to kiss her. And for that, I'm willing to wait.

Hopefully, not for too long.

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

Marie

I covered my face with my hands during the last part about how he "wanted" her. I was so embarrassed and humiliated to read that (and the screaming Os—AGAIN) out loud with my mother!

She pulled my hands down and held them in one of hers. "Honey," she said, keeping her eyes on the road, "neither you nor I would be here if they hadn't found each other attractive, desired each other, and fallen in love. It's how the world works, what we're meant to do as human beings. Stories like this are what fill all the books and movies. But this particular story is a special gift for you, because it's their real live love story. It's what led to me. "

"Your dad and I have our own story that led to you. And someday, you'll have a love story, too. You'll meet someone who makes your heart flutter, who wakes up your body and mind in ways that are making you uncomfortable now, someone who grabs your attention and causes you to stumble over your words or over your feet, someone who makes you giddy and excited and clumsy and stupid for a little while because you're so overwhelmed and anxious at just the thought of him. Someday you'll fall in love, Honey."

Then, I guess she saw this as an opportunity to have "a talk." She started talking about how I need to be comfortable enough with myself to say it (the "o" word) and to try it, so that when the time comes, I'll be able to talk with a man about what pleases me. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. To make things worse, she started talking about the importance of finding a man who gives before he takes and other such things. This was my MOTHER! Talking about SEX! I've whispered about those things with my roommate and a couple of super-close friends at school, but never with Mom, and never so open and matter-of-factly.

Thank goodness we'd arrived home. I felt like any more of that conversation would make me die from embarrassment.

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

* * *

**A/N**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts...**

**Thanks,  
Jen**

Cullen Family Cruisers – 2014:

Great Grandma Didi (Pops' mom)

Pops &amp; Nanny (Afton &amp; Renata)

Liam (48) &amp; Siobhan – Emmett (13) &amp; Rosalie (9)

Garrett (45) &amp; Kate – Alec &amp; Jane (6), Chelsea (8)

Esme (42) &amp; Carlisle – Edward (23) &amp; Alice (12)

Peter (36) &amp; Charlotte – Stefan (7), Lucy (5), &amp; Jasper (2)


	7. Chapter 7-Make Headway

**CourtShip**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 2/20/14**

* * *

Story Summary

In cleaning out a house, sorting through a lifetime of memories and possessions, she happens upon the journals, his and her stories of how it all began: a 50th anniversary, a graduation trip, a cruise that set them on a new course. AH 20-something Bella &amp; Edward. A little angst, but mostly fluffy, romantic fun.

* * *

**A/N**

**Sorry to keep you waiting. Marie hasn't been speaking to me.**

* * *

~ ~ \-0-0-0-/ ~ ~

**CHAPTER 7****-Day 4: Cabo/Parasailing – Make Headway**

Marie

_Thank goodness we'd arrived home. I felt like any more of that conversation with Mom would make me die from embarrassment. _

I huffed in aggravation as the handle pulled far too easily and I banged my shoulder painfully against the unyielding metal and glass. I was desperate to get out, but the locked door refused to grant me escape from Mom's humiliating turn of conversation until she'd casually, slowly shifted the car into park, releasing the automatic locks with a "thunk." I jumped out as soon as humanly possible, snatched my box from the back seat, and rushed into the house, meeting my dad in the doorway.

"Hi Princess. How's it going?" His voice was dull, tired, down, like we all felt, but he offered comfort nonetheless.

I brushed past him with a slight shake of my head, barely meeting his eye. I didn't mean to be rude, it was just all too much—the entire day had been awash with emotion. I was reeling from the loss itself, of course. I'd never experienced the death of anyone close to me before and this had been so sudden, so shocking. That had caused a heavy ache that gnawed at the emptiness I felt inside even before I'd set foot in their house. The house had been a minefield of memories itself, the most random and unexpected items causing tears to surface, anguish to reach out and grab ahold of me. Add to that the physical labor of lugging all those boxes of books, the incredible high of reading their love story and the regretful low of realizing what a fool I'd been to take my grandparents' affection for granted until now, when it was too late. With all that keeping me on the edge of tears all day long, Mom's embarrassing advice about love and sex brought me to my breaking point.

Dad stepped aside, eyes widened, and let me pass with my burdens—the physical one as well as the weight I carried inside—and I rushed up the stairs.

As I rounded the landing, I paused, ashamed. After dealing with lawyers and realtors and insurance agents all day, trying to sort through the masses of paperwork and bureaucracy, he didn't deserve to be treated that way.

"Daddy, I…" I turned and looked back to apologize, but his attention had turned. Mom had melted into his arms, the strength and fortitude she'd shown all day (well, almost) leaving her as soon as she could rely on his to carry them both. I watched, looking more closely than I had in the past, truly seeing as he held her close, rocking back and forth, petting her hair, murmuring in her ear. When she lifted her head and looked into his eyes, hers heavy with pain, his overflowing with tenderness, I could see it, actually see it! That was love.

The feelings of inadequacy, inexperience, and self-pity that had manifested in my tired, downtrodden brain when Mom spoke of physical love; the feelings of hopelessness and loneliness that had crept in when I read my grandparents' tale of romance, suddenly all went away.

With a wistful smile, I turned and tiptoed up the stairs, collapsing on top of my bed after grabbing the journals from my box of Grandma and Grandpa's things. Despite my exhaustion—physical and emotional—I was eager to continue with their love story.

I read…

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

Her Scrapbook

What a wonderful start to a wonderful day! First thing this morning as we were getting ready to meet the rest of our parasailing group, we heard a knock on the door. Angela answered and sang "Bella, it's for you!" She pulled the door open wide, and there was Edward standing there. He had come to escort me up to breakfast. (sigh).

When we got there, he stayed at the table to watch our stuff while the girls and I went through the buffet, delaying his own breakfast until we'd returned.

My friends were giggling about how thoughtful he is when Mike and his buddies showed up. What a contrast. They were loud and boisterous—kind of obnoxious, actually. Tyler even grabbed Edward's stuff off the bench next to me and moved it to one of the chairs so he could take the more comfortable banquette seat for himself—jerk! Then, all during breakfast and on the tender over to Cabo, he kept interrupting and trying to pull me into the most random side conversations that were completely unrelated to anything the group was talking about it. I think Edward could tell that I was uncomfortable. I'd told him about Tyler trying to dance with me a little too closely the other night.

Edward was so sweet. He kept trying to put himself between Tyler and me, he offered his hand to help me up into the boat, he put his hand on my back as we walked, and he carried my beach bag—my pink and white striped, Victoria's Secret beach bag! When we caught a brief moment alone, he invited me to have dinner with him tonight, saying that we should have a more official first date. Yay!

We got to the parasailing boat and Edward asked how my sunburn was feeling. He was worried about the parasailing harness bothering it, but his "cure" had worked wonders. I felt fine. Just as he was digging some sunscreen out of his bag, offering to put it on my back, Tyler appeared out of nowhere and asked me to put some lotion on _him_. Really? This dude needs to chill.

I grabbed my spray-on sunscreen and gave his back a quick spritz—no way was I going to touch him. He scowled at Edward who was rubbing lotion on my shoulders and gave me a sarcastic thanks before scuttling off to his buddies. I don't know what his problem was, and I was enjoying the feeling of Edward's hands on my back too much to worry about Tyler.

The parasailing itself was fantastic, exhilarating. I felt like I was flying, wind in my face, high above the water with gorgeous views in every direction as the speedboat tugged me, tethered like a kite to its tail end. Wow! It was amazing, and it ended way too soon.

When everyone else had gone, it was Edward's turn, but he offered it to me. He'd paid for it, but insisted that I go up again, since I'd enjoyed it so much. Jessica joked that this was the college age version of going under the bleachers to look up a girl's skirt—ha! Edward seemed kind of uncomfortable when I tried to refuse. I think he might be afraid of heights or something, so I took his turn. It was so much fun!

Angela said she got a really good picture of me, but I haven't seen it. Our phones don't work on the ship, so she used her regular camera and I haven't looked yet.

Parasailing was awesome! I'm so glad we did it!

The boat dropped us off at a gorgeous beach that's a ways away from the downtown where we were yesterday. We all went to an outdoor restaurant that's right on the beach for lunch. It had a fun party atmosphere with loud music and plentiful beer and margaritas. But I really just wanted to get to know Edward better and it was hard to talk there, so after we finished eating, I told the girls I'd meet them back on the ship and Edward and I went walking on the beach.

It was warm and beautiful and the conversation was great. It usually takes a while for me to feel comfortable with people, but not with Edward. He's so easy to talk to!

The only downside to a lovely afternoon was the constant interruption by vendors selling things on the beach. I have to admit, though, that I'm getting better at negotiating. I bought a necklace that I love and talked the guy down to just over half of what he originally asked for it.

He tried to sell me the matching ring and bracelet, too, but I didn't want to spend all my cash, even though I kind of wanted the ring. We have a whole day in Puerto Vallarta tomorrow, and I'm sure there will be opportunities for shopping there.

Edward bought a brightly colored striped blanket and laid it on the sand so we could sit and watch the waves together.

We talked about our families and our plans after school. He's just starting med school in the fall, so he's still got awhile. When I saw his Dartmouth duffle bag this morning, I resigned myself to the fact that this cruise would probably be it for this… fling or whatever it is we're doing. But then he told me that he's starting at Stanford in the fall and that he just moved out here to start an internship at San Francisco General.

! ! !

That. Changes. Everything. He lives right across the bay from me—an hour away—and his job is halfway in between! I had to really struggle to control my reaction to that news. I wanted to start jumping up and down, screaming. My mind was spinning with excitement, but I played it cool, not wanting to come across as a silly fangirl. I just smiled and offered to show him around the Bay Area sometime, (setting the stage to see him after the cruise, I hope!)

We had a really nice dinner. Early this morning, before we left for parasailing Edward had made reservations at the fancy restaurant on the top deck of the ship. I didn't even know it was there. The large, formal dining room where I've had dinner every other night is very nice, but this was a lot more private… intimate… I felt like it was just the two of us.

Edward is really incredible. He's intelligent and accomplished in so many things, yet he's humble and grateful for all the opportunities he's had. He's kind, and generous, and friendly, yet reserved. He's confident, but not arrogant; and he's patient, helpful without being condescending. He puts you at ease, makes you feel good about yourself, about being with him. He's got a wicked, wry wit, but doesn't tell jokes at others' expense. He loves his crazy-big family, loves kids—he wants to be a pediatrician—but he also appreciates quiet, contemplation, solitude. He doesn't find it necessary to fill in every silence with meaningless drivel.

Each thing he says, matters. And to each thing I said, he listened, somehow—whether through attention to body language or facial expression or maybe mind reading—_somehow_ picking up on the things that were not said but were often deeply felt. I've known the guy for 24 hours, yet he knows things about me that no one else does. I've never felt a connection like this with anyone. Not my parents, not my closest friends… only Edward Cullen.

And he's so freaking gorgeous on top of it all! (fanning self)

Anyway, dinner was fantastic. We continued our "first official date" with (very cliché) a movie. Every night on the cruise they line up all the deck chairs in rows facing a giant screen that hangs from the balcony overlooking the main pool. They make popcorn and provide blankets while they play classic movies. Last night they had a Bond marathon. I don't know if there was a theme tonight, but we ended up seeing Top Gun.

I saw Jen there, the lady we met at breakfast the first day. She said that this movie was from back when Tom Cruise was cool, and all the girls loved him. She told me a story about her friends all trying to sneak in to see Risky Business in 8th grade. He was kinda cute, I guess. Too bad he turned into such a weirdo.

Not that I watched much of the movie. I couldn't stop thinking about Edward. He was sitting right next to me with our lounge chairs pushed close together, sharing a blanket. I was so tempted to put my head on his shoulder, my hand on his thigh under that blanket. High up on his thigh. Maybe the inside of his thigh. But, I kept my hands outside and held our bag of popcorn instead.

Still, I couldn't focus on the movie much at all. I felt kind of tingly and fluttery and short of breath just being near him, and my thoughts kept wandering to things I'd learned about him, things I wanted to learn about him. I wondered if he felt the same way. I kept glancing at him during the movie, staring at his hands, his lips, his profile, his hair blowing in the slight breeze. He caught me couple of times, making me look away and blush. Busted!

We finished our popcorn, and when Edward leaned away to set the bag down next to his chair, the blanket got all messed up. He fixed it over the two of us, scooting closer so that our shoulders touched and he grasped my hand in his—underneath the blanket this time.

I gave him a sideways glance, smiled, and leaned into him, too. I didn't quite lay my head down on his shoulder, but I did rest my cheek against it. His polo shirt was really soft. Must have been expensive. Every once in awhile during the movie, his thumb caressed the top of mine.

During the love scene he squeezed my hand and squirmed a little bit. His breaths deepened. My heart was racing, too. It was kind of uncomfortable—for both of us, probably—so I said something to break through the tension in the air between us as we watched the couple on the screen making love. I asked him if he knew that the actress is a lesbian in real life.

It worked. Edward laughed and said that she was a better actress than he'd thought. Ha ha—good comeback! So, Edward's one of _those_ people who always thinks of the right thing to say at the right moment. I usually think of a perfect response hours later while I'm lying in bed!

After the movie, we strolled around one of the upper decks, looking at the ocean. It was so beautiful with the moon reflecting off the water. But it was a little windy. When Edward noticed that I had goose bumps, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I trembled a little at his touch and he must have thought I was really cold, because he stopped walking, leaned against the railing, rubbed my upper arms until the goose bumps went away, and then pulled me into a hug.

He asked me if that was ok, which I thought was oddly old-fashioned but kind of sweet. The words "of course" had barely left my lips, when he bent his face down close to mine and gazed into my eyes. I thought he was going to kiss me, but he didn't. I _wanted_ him to kiss me, but he DIDN'T!

A gust of wind blew my hair into my face, and he combed it back along my temples with his fingers, leaving his hands there, gently holding my face. Then he leaned his face in close again. The tip of his tongue poked out and he moistened his lips. His eyes darted to my mouth and when they returned to my gaze, they were filled with longing. He took a quavering breath just as I tilted my chin up and puckered my lips against his. He returned the kiss-slow and ever-so-soft. My fingers curled, squeezing the sides of his waist as he gave me a second kiss, this one quicker and firmer, and then rested his forehead against mine.

After a couple of deep breaths, we looked at each other and smiled. Edward pressed his lips together, his eyes gleaming with joy. I bit my bottom lip and giggled. Then he shifted his body lower against the railing behind him. He's really tall, 9 inches taller than I am, so I stretched my arms up around his neck, making it easier to reach up and kiss him. One of us moaned. The other gasped as we dove into each other, our lips meeting frantically, almost violently. Kissing, over and over again, hard, fast, wet.

I released my jaw, opening up and inviting his warm tongue into my mouth. He obliged with a groan and raised a hand to the back of my head as the other tightened around my waist. I pressed my body against his and gripped the back of his shirt as our lips kneaded against each other, tongues danced, never parting for more than a quick moment to catch a breath.

I was a bit preoccupied and didn't notice anyone had approached us until Edward suddenly stiffened and pulled away. He buried his face in my shoulder, catching his breath and shaking his head "no." He stood up tall and nudged me behind him with a hand on my hip before yelling at his cousin Emmett, telling him to go away. The boy left with his friends, taunting Edward as they did, and Edward turned and apologized to me. He was furious and frustrated. I kissed him, told him it was ok, and asked him to walk me back to my room.

We shared another kiss, this one soft and sweet, at my door. As soon as it shut, I jumped up and down, danced around the room, and spun in circles. I looked in the mirror, fingers against my lips that still tingled with Edward's kisses.

And then I grabbed my journal and climbed into bed.

I know I'm writing a lot. How could I ever sleep? I'm so excited. And I don't want to forget a single minute of today: my first day—my first KISS—with Edward Cullen! I hope there will be many, many more.

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

Marie:

I rolled to my back with a grin. Oh, what I wouldn't give for such a romantic first kiss!

I imagined the two young lovers holding each other close, exchanging one quick kiss after another and smiling each time their lips parted for more than a moment.

The image in my mind of the young Bella and Edward in the photographs kept switching back and forth with a vision of the Bella and Edward I'd always known—Grandma and Grandpa—still kissing, but with much, much older faces and bodies, frumpier clothes, more relaxed smiles...

I'd seen them kissing so many times and had always been embarrassed, disgusted, or even horrified to the point of trying to sneak away and pretend I didn't know them, depending on the audience for their ardor.

My mind's eye changed its picture to the young couple and I began to accept how very special their connection was, at any age—maybe even more so after they'd spent decades together.

With a wistful sigh for a love I'd never be able to witness again, I set the book aside, retrieved my pajamas from the dresser drawer, and made my way to the bathroom.

I looked at myself with a critical eye in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, turning my head and pulling my face into different angles and positions. I realized how much I looked like Bella had at my age, kind of astounded at my resemblance to the girl in the old photos.

I looked up after spitting out the toothpaste and puckered my lips into a kiss, trying to imagine what it would be like to have a handsome man to receive it. I opened my eyes and grimaced at my reflection.

_Yeah, right. Like that's ever going to happen_.

Yanking my hair up into a sloppy pony tail, I turned, chagrined, and left those hopeful thoughts behind.

I grabbed my laptop off the desk and climbed into bed, sitting up against the headboard. I reached for the book on my nightstand, blushing at the memory of what I'd seen in another nightstand that day.

Shaking off that thought, I flipped through the pages, stopping to look at photos of their first day together—floating in a parachute high above a motorboat full of their friends, holding salt-rimmed margarita glasses aloft in a toast, posing with a giant iguana on their shoulders… I looked a little closer at one shot of the two of them on a beautiful white sand beach. _Could that be_… ?

* * *

**A/N**

I hope you liked their first date. Would love to hear your first date stories. Please leave a review &amp; tell me all about the good, the bad, and the ugly!

Truly, it helps motivate me when you leave a little feedback—even just a word or two. After seeing this sit at the number 57—not even 10 reviews per chapter—for over a month, I was all set to just tell you guys that was it, I was done. WTFamIdoing, a loyal reviewer from The Fantasy Basket, gave me #58 and a little spark that got Marie talking to me for this chapter. Thanks!


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